Extra soap required
“Time for a shower,” says the sky. “Hold still for a good wash.”
Rain pours down, pattering on roofs, splashing off leaves, dribbling down the windows. It sounds like a mama who insists on a little more scrubbing, a little more rinsing, a little more just-behind-the-ears.
It only seems fitting. All across the region the past few days have been caught up in various Mardi Gras celebrations. Time to jam in as much decadence and debauchery as possible before the somber fasts of Lent when friends bemoan their withdrawals from chocolate, wine, and Facebook.
Even the sky can see that it’s going to require more than a little spit bath to scrub away all that grime.
I didn’t grow up in the South, so Mardi Gras isn’t part of my tradition. And though I did grow up in a church that acknowledged liturgical seasons and calendars, there was no emphasis on fasting during Lent, so Lent fasts aren’t part of my tradition, either.
I’ve never felt prompted to make either a new personal tradition. I don’t relate either of them to increased intimacy with God or value for holiness, so I leave them for folks who do. It’s really important to many of them.
Still, as I listen to the sound of the rain outside, I can’t escape the sense that even the very earth needed a bath in order to prepare for the season at hand.